guess the timing works out well for you, considering what the reporters said when they cornered me at the pool.
“Oh, shit.”
Glad to hear we were both on the same page about it being a fling. Makes me feel better about having to leave like this.
Thanks for everything.
—The nobody
Nate read the note twice, his eyes returning to those final words. The nobody. That’s what he’d called her to the reporters. His unthinking comment—meant to spare her from the public eye—had hurt her and then sent her running. She might sincerely have had an emergency, but he doubted she’d have left without even a call if she hadn’t been targeted by the press.
His first instinct was to go after her, to fix this right now. Hell, maybe she could use his help with her emergency.
His second—more rational—instinct was to let her go. He could be in for a long, ugly fight, both in the media and, possibly, in the courtroom. A public relationship with Heather would only make things worse for both of them.
Besides which, she was apparently in the midst of a crisis. What kind of asshole would he be to heap more stress into her life by drawing the bloodsucking flies of the paparazzi to her door, as his presence would surely do?
He couldn’t. He just couldn’t do it to her.
“Damn it, Felicity,” he muttered, wishing he’d never laid eyes on his ex, who’d fooled him and the world into believing she wasn’t the vapid, shallow, vain woman she truly was.
Now he’d met a real woman—a smart, sexy woman he knew he could fall for. And, for her own good, he had to let her go.
At least for now.
Ten Months Later
BEING A BRIDESMAID was supposed to be fun. Being the maid of honor at the wedding of someone you truly loved even more so.
But when the bride was your mother, who’d been widowed due to the death of your adored father less than a year ago, fun wasn’t the word to use. Heather would prefer to listen to a chorus of six-year-olds singing that song from Frozen on a 24/7 loop than hear her mom say one more word about her upcoming Caribbean wedding.
“Are you sure you’ve got enough sunscreen?”
“I’m sure,” she said, even as she fantasized about getting a bad case of sun poisoning so she could bail on the wedding.
“And a hat and cover-up? That tropical sun is so strong!”
“Two hats, three cover-ups, a few long-sleeved shirts. Know where I can find a burqa?” Her tone was as calm and even as her expression. Frankly, she was starting to congratulate herself on both. She’d gotten pretty good at hiding her true thoughts.
“Smarty-pants,” her mother said with a laugh, not reading anything into Heather’s mood. How she couldn’t realize that her daughter was a steaming ball of emotion most of the time was beyond her.
Seriously, her mother was a smart woman, but she appeared to have no clue that Heather, who’d adored her dad, was heartbroken about Amy’s whirlwind romance, engagement and destination wedding. In two days, they and twenty other friends and family members would fly to Miami to board a private yacht, with a crew of ten. Five days of sailing would take them to Barbados, where her mother would marry a rich stranger whom Heather hadn’t even met.
Her fault, she supposed. She’d evaded every possible meeting, never imagining anything would come of the romance. It was too painful for her to even think about her mom dating anyone. Not because she didn’t wish her happiness, but because it was just too soon. Heather wasn’t over her father’s unexpected death at only fifty-one. How could her mother be?
Short answer: she wasn’t. Amy Hughes had always been the queen of denial. Heather feared she was now denying herself the chance to grieve.
She’d told herself her mother’s fling with an Albuquerque businessman was none of her business. Her mom had always been, as her father had called her, a flibbertigibbet—flighty and joyful. That described her mom to a T. But she also had a huge heart full of love, and she craved it in return. She was a vibrant, pretty fifty-year-old. Of course she’d want to be in love again.
“Still, did it have to be so damn soon?” Heather mumbled.
“What was that, honey?”
“Nothing,” she said as she parked the car outside the country club where tonight’s engagement party was being held.
It seemed dumb to have an engagement party a week before the wedding. But the bride and groom had wanted all the guests to meet on neutral ground before they boarded the yacht where they’d be stuck together for five days.
Heather could only list a few things she’d less look forward to doing for five days, including getting parts of her body waxed or listening to her dad’s old Bee Gees collection.
“I’m so excited that you’re finally going to meet Jerry,” Mom said as they exited the car. “You’ll love him.”
Maybe. As soon as she was able to stop crying for her dad.
“I just hope his son will approve of me,” her mother added.
Heather stopped mid stride. “Son?”
“Yes, he has one son. Didn’t I mention that?”
“No.” Jesus, she was now going to have a stepbrother to go along with the stepfather? Only in her mother’s flibbertigibbety world would something like that not have come up before now.
“Well, to be fair, baby girl, you haven’t been very interested in hearing about Jerry or the wedding.”
“No, I guess I haven’t.” Then, because she simply had to say something, she added, “Mom, are you sure about this?”
Her mother kept that smile pasted on. Heaven forbid they have an honest conversation that pierced the happy bubble. Heather’s greatest fear was that when the bubble inevitably burst and her mother allowed herself to truly grieve for what she had lost, she might be stuck in a marriage with someone she didn’t love.
“What do you mean?” her mother asked, continuing to play the game they’d been playing since the day of her father’s funeral, when her mom had declared she was too young to wear black and had put on a pink dress. Put off until tomorrow what you can’t deal with today. That was Amy Hughes’s motto.
“I mean...it’s awfully soon.”
“Yes, but I married your father after only nine months and look how well that worked out. I may have only met Jerry six months ago, but I’m even older and wiser now.”
Heather hadn’t been talking about how long her mother had known this Jerry dude, but rather about how long it had been since Dad’s death. But of
